Just Happened to be There
by Pixelsaber
Summary: Fragment of a hunter's life. Stories of how he made and lost friends. Tales of how he slayed magnificent beasts. And accounts of how he happened to be stuck in the middle of a catastrophe that was beyond him. Based primarily off of MH3U.
1. Old Problems

_Disclaimer: I do not own Monster Hunter, or any other intellectual property mentioned or referenced in this story. Monster Hunter belongs to Capcom. I own nothing…_

 **Prologue**

-Old problems-

* * *

 _ **Tell me...**_

 _ **When will this happen?**_

* * *

"...and a right. After that just keep going until you see your buddies, they should have already arrived by then," Zack watched, dumbfounded, as the burly fisherman hoisted the heavy luggage onto his shoulder and walked off, the extra weight not slowing him down a single bit.

"That one didn't even grunt... I think I might owe the first mate an apology," he admitted with a frown. The shorter man chuckled, remembering how often the hunter had shrugged off the crew's tales as 'pointless exaggerations'.

"Why did you call him a 'that'? Besides, they must think the same of us."

 _He's got a point..._ Hunters were renowned for telling the most ridiculous and overblown tales, but the worst thing is oftentimes people ate it all up. The stubborn hunter hummed reluctantly, furrowing his brows further.

"I still call bulldung! No way they caught a grown _Gobul_ at sea! Playing us for fools! That 'spike' the captain likes to use as a cane is obviously fake," Zack assured, crossing his arms and taking a glance back at the ship, almost daring someone to show up and try to prove him wrong. His friend only offered a shake of the head, letting him have his small victory.

"Well us hunters know better, don't we? Besides, have a little faith once in a while... Now, are you lending me a hand?" Breathing a heavy sigh, Zack left his comfortable spot next to his own things to help, grabbing the Item box by its remaining handle.

The two men were able to heave the chest easily enough, although the shorter hunter definitely had to put a lot more effort into it. Having awkwardly shuffled around a few moments before finally deciding on who would take the lead, the pair made their way off the wooden boards and onto the worn cobblestone path.

Zack had to make a note of how unusually dark everything looked, the usually star-light sky was instead cloudy, which did nothing to help his visibility. He could only barely make out the closed stalls and stacked crates to his sides.

 _Never quite got used to the quiet evenings either... Probably cause I slept through them._

The southern edge of town is where most nightly activities occur, with shipments and people constantly arriving and leaving, it's no surprise that it's also has the highest concentration of taverns and inns.

Even with the high influx of people, the rest of the town wasn't active in the evenings. Therefore, the farther away from the ships and commerce they got, the less light filtered out the building's windows; and shortly after, nothing but their steps and breathing could be heard. Firewyvern lamps every so often where their only reprieve as the surrounding buildings became indistinguishable among the shadows.

"Wait, wait... through here." His friend urged him, pulling them to the side. Zack said nothing as he was led into the darkness, expecting to bump into a wall at any moment.

They surprisingly kept their course for a few more moments, it was only after a sharp, uncomfortable, turn and a better look around that he realized they had somehow wound up in a rather tight alley. Every so often he would brush against something or step on what he assumed was garbage, feeding into his growing discomfort.

A _t least it doesn't stink._ He thought, sparing a glance at shorty, who didn't seem to be having his problem of bumping into things, but sounded like a beached Ceadeus.

"Hey, you need a break?"

 _"_ No...no thanks. Th-the sailors... they are waiting." Zack nodded. They must be close to getting there... He did say it was a few moments from the Guild hall after all.

 _You'd think he could get into a nicer neighborhood... Maybe he wasn't lying when he said he's a genuine zeni pincher._

"...I bet we look shady, carrying around boxes in the middle of the night and all," He joked, a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"I guess... ma-maybe we should have taken the more... direct route." The shorter hunter panted.

"Heh, there was a quicker route and _now_ you tell me," Zack laughed, "How much more to go?... And I'm curious, what brings you here anyway? I mean... isn't Dahcreed the far better choice? Especially for hunters?"

Zack didn't miss the way the box's weight shifted slightly, or the moment of hesitation in his next step. He had thought it a simple enough question, nothing too invasive. The other hunter only nodded, taking the time to consider the questions...

"This place is nice though. Heck, I lived here. It's just not the usual, y'know?" Zack added in an attempt to end the subject, though his friend responded with another nod, doing little to ease the taller hunter.

The port town of Dert rested on the feet of Mount Dert, one of the tallest peaks of the Finto mountains. The town is Araiguma's center of merchantry and the busiest of the country's maritime trade routes.

On the other hand, despite Mount Dert being part of an extensive mountain range, it isn't home to many monsters. Dert could only offer herbivores and the few raptorial bird wyverns that roamed the other side of the mountain, and the nearby forests don't offer more than the usual bird wyverns, small leviathans and the rare Rath or Lagiacrus, which isn't enough to catch the attention of most dedicated hunters.

Contrary to most towns and cities, Dert didn't even have need for walls or other fortifications, the surrounding terrain warding off even the Greatest of Jaggies, and most flying wyverns knew to stay away from any human settlements.

"...I guess I... like the tranquility, a...densely populated city like Dahcreed or Araiguma city... can't offer me that. Also, I've got an acquaintance here." He finally gave his answer, through labored breaths and numerous huffs.

"You're right, but this place isn't what I would call peaceful, or underpopulated, the farming villages up north might be more of what you're looking for," Zack argued. Sure, Dert was a far cry from the big cities, but it wasn't exactly peaceful either, especially when any major events rolled by.

"Not... much to do. Nothing but artisans and farmers, any threats are little and... most likely to be handled by the appointed hunter. I don't want... to get my hands in the di-dirt for a living, a small living at that."

Zack could understand that, he had been to a few places where the only guild presence was a run-down stall, most likely manned by a kooky lady."Trust me, all those hunters are more than happy to trade places with you, but I can get behind that..."

After another turn Zack breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the familiar light cast by the streetlamps. _Shorty also picked up the pace, a sure sign that we're nearly there._

"Almost there... Just to the right." The short hunter confirmed.

Soon after stepping out of the alley they spotted the crewmen waiting further down the street —some of them _still_ carrying stuff— before joining them. They didn't appear to be the slightest annoyed at the hunter's lateness.

"Home sweet... h-home."

After gently putting the huge chest down Zack took the moment to roll his shoulder and flex his fingers, while the smaller hunter caught his breath, holding a hand up at the sailors who watcedh him expectantly. "Just up the steps, give me a moment." Zack glanced at the two-story building, the first floor made in stone, and the second one built from sturdy wooden planks.

"Alright, let's go." Shorty announces and climbs the stairs, creaks following every other step, the sailors following close behind in a melody of grating squeaks.

After opening the door the shorter hunter muttered something like 'put them anywhere' before coming back down for the last item box. The two hunters once again teamed up to carry the heavy luggage and make the uphill trek.

Inside, Zack finds himself in yet another uncomfortable position, with all seven crewmen plus themselves and the boxes stuffed in a small room. Having maneuvered into another room and put down the chest, the smaller hunter starts rummaging through his bag.

"As soon as you get your share, please exit." Shorty orders, handing one of them some zeni for his troubles, something he'd insisted on.

 _Maybe he's not a skinflint?_

After thanking or in some way acknowledging the small man, all the fishermen started funneling out, allowing space for the cramped Zack to breath, soon enough the two hunters were also out the door and out on the street.

"Here."

"You ain't paying me, shorty," the shorter hunter recoiled at the nickname, "You might have convinced those meat-heads, but not me," Zack declared smugly at the seemingly generous hunter, who let out a sigh.

"You sure? I just made you carry a box of explosives."

"No, I— did you say explosives?" The shorter hunter nodded.

 _That cheeky bastard…_

"By your gaping I'd say you didn't read the lid," He guessed, smiling and shaking his head in mild amusement, "Weren't you going on and on about concentrating, being aware of your surroundings, and not letting your guard down?" The taller man glared at him, ill humored, "You taking it?" He offered again, holding up the coins for Zack to see.

"No."

"Alright then, is there anything else you might want?"

The taller hunter crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "How about this? Next time I happen to be around, you let me crash at your place." His friend rubbed his chin, considering the arrangement.

"...Okay, you've got lodging." The taller hunter couldn't help but smile at his friend's unexpected disposition.

 _Definitely generous…_

"When are you leaving?" Zack chuckled sheepishly at his friend's inquiry, rubbing the back of his head.

 _I don't remember this part of town..._ "Which way to the docks?" The shorter man jerked his head to the side, following his gaze Zack saw the the sea, not even fifty yards away. "Ah, the _direct_ route..." It was now the other hunter's turn to act sheepish.

"Ye-yeah..."

"...I should get going, boat leaves at dawn." The shorter hunter nods, extending his hand, "A pleasure meeting you, Zack." He extends his own, shaking the smaller man's arm brashly.

"See ya shor-"

"Don't call me that!" He quickly rebuked. The taller hunter stifled a laugh, turned around and began walking down the street, waving back nonchalantly.

"Good day Mr. Basket!"

"It's _Wache_!" Zack looked back at the shrinking form of his friend, giving him a two-fingered salute before turning his attention back on the road.

 _What a weird guy..._

* * *

Wache gave another push, the last one needed to place the Item box where it belonged, then took a step back, admiring the results of his efforts.

He had managed to move the four Item boxes into his room, two at each side of his bed —or rather, bed frame. All carves on the right, and combining materials such as herbs, bugs, and gunpowder to the left.

Satisfied with his work, he walked out to the living room to continue his original task, the one he had been prompted to do before he was distracted by his room's untidiness. He crouched down to poke around the contents of a crate, looking for a specific object.

Having no luck, he decides it's best to get a source of light first _._ Walking over to the table, he stares for a moment at his only available light source, a pale wax candle upon a brass holder, before remembering what he needed. _Where could that spark lighter be... Maybe?_

Carefully descending down into the darkened first floor, he made his way towards the general direction he _thought_ the oven was, reaching around blindly for a few moments before coming into contact with the smooth stone surface. Breathing a victorious 'ah-ha!', he began to feel around for the sparker. Still having no luck, he took a few steps back, sighing in defeat.

"Where did you put it Wache..." He groaned out in frustration. _I remember using it on the ship, and then I-_

Wache pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed disappointingly. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out what he believed to be the object he was looking for and gives it an experimental squeeze, the tool sparking momentarily.

Satisfied, the hunter made his way back up the stairs, and sat at the table. After a couple of sparks and a moderate amount of blowing he was able to light the candle. _Finally some light..._

Candle in hand, he pulled the crate closer to comfortably view it's contents, eventually spotting what he wanted. He reached for it, but suddenly yelped back when he felt something sharp.

 _Dammit, I need to stop putting random shit in there..._ He inspected his hand, seeing the slow trickle of blood down his palm _. Just a small cut._ He puts down the candle while licking at his fresh wound and using his sound hand to carefully retrieve a small ornate box from within the mess of assorted items. Pushing the crate back, he brings the candle up closer to examine the small box.

After a few moments of identifying the carvings on the sides of the box, he finally found the correct indentation, and pressed it. The box's lid flipped open with an audible click, and the hunter took a look at the contents inside.

 _Just the one..._ Wache chuckles, picking up one of the folded notes inside and snapping the little box shut. He get's up with an unenthusiastic groan, holding the paper firmly and setting the ornate artifact on his table.

After going through the trouble of unlocking the door, Wache steps outside, standing to the side of the street. The hunter unfolds the dog-eared paper, holding it up, and brings the candle up close so that the small writing is visible.

"...Somewhere very far away." He closed the remaining gap between the two objects and watched the small parchment catch fire, observing intently as the radiant flames ate away at it, then eventually let it fall to the ground.

His task complete he turned around to ascends the steps…

"Done."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hello, MH fandom! And thank you for reading so far!**

 **Well, how was it? Horrible? Pain inducing? Unworthy of it's existence? (I'm a harsh self-critic) Tell me everything! My writing style is... unique, for lack of a better term. I'm a fan of descriptions, and have a hard time knowing when to stop. I describe the smallest things, from the fine cracks on the stone walls; the dead rat stuck on that sewer pipe, it's fur wet and flesh bloating —that the character doesn't even acknowledge; the way the cloth hanging from the clothesline move in the slight breeze, rising and falling much like the rhythmic breathing of a sleeping beast, it's intricate pattern standing out because of... I got carried away again, didn't I? Well, normally people appreciate the smaller details, but when this goes on for the whole time... It gets rather dull.**

 **Sadly, I can't hold myself back. In an effort to shorten those massive walls of text, I mostly just take out the unnecessary stuff (like the aforementioned dead rat), but this makes some parts read awkwardly or feel disjointed. I try my best to fix these issues, but I'm a horrible proof-reader so if ya'll could point these out I would be very grateful.**

 **Darn it, This AN is already too long and the only thing I've said is: "Tell me if anything feels off" *sigh* Well, I'm not done yet. I'm going to take the moment to explain a bit more about how this story is going to play out. Originally, this epic was to be divided in three parts, a trilogy, I guess... But when I made some massive changes to the world, tone and characters, I decided to shorten the story considerably. Instead it's just one fic that's divided in three major story arcs, all three of them have a slightly different tone, drive, setting and collection of monsters. So take that into consideration when reviewing later on into the story's lifespan.**

 **Let's talk updates... I'm not** _ **terribly**_ **busy, but I can only write when I'm in the right mindset, and when I happen to be in that mindset, I might feel like working on something else... So, in short, don't expect many updates.**

 **Lastly, while the the main purpose of a review is to provide feedback, some people feel like they don't have something to add, and that's perfectly fine! Even if it's just to say something like: 'I enjoyed myself', 'This sucks', 'Git gud', or even just to say 'hi'. I encourage everybody that reads to review, as it motivates me greatly. I fear that, were it not for the reviews, I would most likely perish...(I'm only slightly exaggerating)**

 **Anyhoo, Thanks for reading this terribly long Author's note, everybody!**


	2. A day in Dert

**Chapter 1**

-A day in Dert-

* * *

The sun rose over the water, casting its warm, orange glow over the town, and in the process waking many of it's inhabitants, except for those few who stayed up well into the evening or those even fewer who didn't catch a wink of sleep over the course of the night. Wache, sadly, found himself in the latter category.

The hunter stopped his reading to peer out the window, squinting his eyes and bearing witness to the unbearably bright dawn of a new day, all the while stifling a yawn. From here he could hear people leaving their homes and swarming the marketplace, the familiar honking of a Gargwa pulling a cart, as well as see hundreds of chimneys suddenly coming to life, and an airship taking to the sky. Every one of those things a sign! A sign that that he should get on with the day that is.

He folded the page before closing the book, then reached over to shut the window, making sure to lock the latch. He stood up from the birch wooden table, stretching his arms above his head with a prolonged groan.

A day of errands and walking around town awaited him, but that didn't put a hamper on his mood as much as the prices did. He needed to pick up some necessities, a mattress being highest on his priorities, and visit to the smithies was also in order, not to mention he was starving.

 _...I should bring it with me._

The hunter walked over to a big and unopened crate, using his hunter's knife to cut the two straps that held the lid in place, then removed the wooden covering, exposing the hunting equipment kept inside. Putting aside various helms, pads and leggings, he eventually reveals a tightly packed row of hilts. He pulled one of the blades free, habitually dusting off the leather case, and later yanked out the accompanying shield.

The hunter then makes his way over to one of his item boxes to retrieve a bigger bag, placing a few tusks, hides and the weapon inside. _Bet he won't be too happy to see me again._ Having gotten everything he needed the hunter walks out of his room, putting out his candle and heading out. The hunter locked the door behind him, tucking the keys in his pocket and descending the stairs.

Wache made his way down the cobblestone path, soon reaching the point where the road transitioned smoothly into wooden planks. He was now seeing more people going about their business, the docks where the busiest part of town after all. Despite it still being early the place is already bustling with activity, plenty of merchandise being unloaded, carts being driven around, different tarps being set up, and the establishments opening for the day.

Now reaching the end of the road, the hunter glanced at the Guild hall as he passed by. The broad building, it's banners and emblem bearing the Guild crest, was the only place in Dert where a hunter could legally accept a quest.

It also happened to be the second most important Guild facility in town, the first being the Elder Dragon Observation tower in the northern part of town, were the many dragonseers maintained their airships.

Dert didn't have much Guild presence, only a few outposts scattered around the adjacent forests and one out on the mountains that was built specifically for the training of new Guild knights. Whereas a normal Guild Hall would normally be rowdy and loud, the one here was quiet and tranquil. Wache could imagine the local scholars using the hall as a place to study in relative peace.

 _I'll have to wait weeks just to hunt anything worthwhile…_

He was now nearing the commercial district of town, he had every intention to head straight there, but a growl from his stomach reminded him of more pressing matters. Slowing down to better take in his surroundings, the hungry hunter conveniently spotted an eatery not much farther ahead.

The sword-wielder made his way into the 'Drunken Kelbi', which looked surprisingly bigger from the inside. Small tables were organized neatly in rows to each side of the building, allowing passage to the counter at the back of the establishment.

Wache would have thought the place looked quaint, if it weren't for all the tacky decorations. The walls were lined with all manner of cheap knick-knacks, such as amateur paintings, ships-in-a-bottle, anchors, and even kelbi hides. Also worthy of note was that the tables all had some sort of floral arrangement on them, and a banner over the counter read that 'Cooked with patented Wyvern Fire!'.

The tavern was manned by felynes, one of which had waved at him when he'd gone in. Taking a seat at the far end of the counter, the same felyne came up and greeted him with a bow.

"Good meowrning hunter! What can I get fur you?" The felyne asked cheerily, pen and paper ready.

"Do you... have any heaven bread?"

"Nyane, all out."

"Jumbo?" The felyne shook his head. _I'm guessing they don't have princess pork or lifejam either..._ "Blangonga Bacon?" He asked hopefully.

"Blango Bacon it is! Purrhaps you would like some furr-esh wyvern eggs with that, meow?"

"Okay."

"Hardtacks on the side?"

"...Why not?"

"Care fur a drink?" Wache doubted there'd be anything that suited his fancy...

"What wines do you have?"

"Sorry to disappoint, hunter, but we don't have wine." _I should have figured as much..._

"What _do_ you have then?"

"Nya, we have a few different ales, our homemade mead, and of course our wide variety of teas." _Ah well, it's still early to be drinking anyways…_

"Sweet cathangea tea, if you have any that is," The felyne's ears perk up, his smile growing into a grin.

"Of course! That's three-hundred and sixty zeni, nya." The sword-wielder handed the coins over to the felyne, who bowed again and leapt off the wooden counter. "Purr-ke breakfast special!" It shouted at the cooks, all of which saluted with an enthusiastic 'Nya!'.

Wache used to think felynes made bad and unsanitary cooks, standing on all four paws and such. He'd only ever eat at restaurants in which he knew the chefs where human —or wyvernian, at least. It was only recently, and at the insistence of a friend, that he'd tried and started to appreciate felyne cuisine. The small lynians made exceptionally skilled cooks, maybe even more so than humans.

The felyne wobbled back shortly after, balancing a large plate of food and the cup of tea, both of which he swiftly dropped in front of the hunter.

"Enjoy!" It added, before walking over to his spot next to the counter.

The hunter contemplated the copious amount of food in front of him, taking in the slightly overpowering smell of bacon and marvelling at the rich color of the wyvern egg's yolk. After a few moments of feeling around for a fork, the hunter first noticed the distinct lack of silverware. With a sigh, he gestured for the felyne to come over.

Sparing a glance at one of the busier tables, he saw that the sailors had already devoured their meals with their bare hands.

 _I sure hope there are nicer places to eat around here, or else I'll need to learn how to cook..._

* * *

The hunter trudged his way up the slightly inclined stone path, making his way past yet another small crowd and continuing to regret eating that excessively big meal.

Dert's commercial district was not much different to your typical market street, with shouts from vendors announcing their wares, the people's incessant chatter, and the bargaining and complaining. The tune of trade most likely seems methodical and dull to the common populace, a particular taste is needed to appreciate its particular melody. Wache was familiar with how it all worked, having devoted most of his life on the practice, and despite finding himself on the other side, it was still the symphony of commerce he had once so eagerly conducted.

The hunter had already gotten past the first dozen or so stalls, which were mostly rare items he had no need for, fancy trinkets that served no practical purpose, and general hunting goods he had enough of. He didn't have to walk much further before finding what he was looking for, a tailor's stall, well at least he assumes it is, with tall stacks of fabric, knitting materials, a conspicuous loom, and colorful patterns on display.

He hunter veered towards the assortment of textiles, eyeing the many cloths carefully, sadly not spotting any sheets or pillows. _Guess I'll need to have them made…_

It was a while before the hunter heeded a peculiar tapping sound. Following the rhythmic sound, he noticed that someone was handling the aforementioned loom, and appeared hunched over their work. He remained silent a few moments, thinking the person had already noticed him, but was starting to become rather impatient after a minute or two.

"Excuse me!" He called. The person, a woman he now saw, quickly straightened and looked in his direction.

"A moment," she answered, standing up from her work and pushing past a few hanging patterns before facing the hunter. "You need something?" The young woman asked, absentmindedly adjusting the scarf around her neck.

"Yes, um... I'm looking for bedclothes and pillow cases, would you happen to have any?"

"You'll have to place an order."

"Labor costs?"

"Free of charge."

 _The fabric is probably expensive…_

"How do I go about making an order?"

"You tell me what you want, then I'll show you the options, you pick one, and finally I'll tell you how much," She replied incisively.

 _She is sharp._ The tailor was giving him the concise answers he wanted, but not the ones he expected to receive from a simple seamstress. He wasn't going to get lax or impulsive though, this woman clearly knew her stuff. _She does not have the bored look either…_

"Well then, I need a mattress case, some nicer sheets for said case, a thick blanket, and some pillow cases as well." The woman disappeared behind the hanging textiles, popping back out a few second later with a bundle of cloth in her hands.

"That mattress needs to be strong, and these linen happen to be strong _and_ cheap," she explained, pushing some materials aside and placing the rough fabric in front for the hunter to see. Wache ran his hand over all three samples, unable to notice any difference in the coarse texture.

"Out of these three, give me the cheapest." The tailor placed one of the fabrics aside, writing something down before taking the other two samples back.

"How do you want the bedclothes?"

"Soft and gray... and durable." He had no intention of buying another set anytime soon, preferably not for another decade…

The lady reappeared from behind the draping textiles, carrying yet another stack of samples for him to see and feel, every one of them a different shade of gray.

"This one is good enough." Wache decided, holding up a one of the thinner cloths. The woman again placed the one aside and grabbed the rest.

"How big would you like the case?" Thankful to have remembered to measure the frame, the hunter handed her the measurements on a note. "I see... The only other thing was a blanket, right?" The hunter confirmed her statement with a nod.

 _The blanket is surely the most expensive, unless I can stand some of the rougher ones._

"I have a large wool blanket someone never picked up. They paid, so you can have it for much less. It'll be mismatched though." The tailor explained, the hunter was having a hard time deciphering whether she was trying to genuinely offering him a deal or trying to pawn some overly-expensive leftovers on him.

 _This is a bit too convenient…_

"...Can I see it?"

As expected, she again disappeared behind the cloths and shortly after emerged from between the hanging textiles, this time carrying a thick, brown woolen blanket. Unfolding it partially and laying it out for the short man to see. Like with the fabrics before it, Wache felt it. It was softer than the sheets, and it was most definitely warm enough, he didn't even care if it was mismatched, really. The reason he had specifically wanted gray is because it didn't start to look dirty for a long time.

"How much?"

"Four hund-"

"I'll take it!" The woman was a bit taken aback at the hunter's relatively hasty answer, even Wache thought it uncharacteristic of him.

 _Ah, heck. Who can blame me? This is a steal!_ He told himself. It was true though, woolen blankets where a rare commodity, one would normally set you back over two thousand zeni.

"Okay, that's it then." The woman finished by scribbling something else on the her piece of paper.

"Four thousand, six hundred and three zeni." The hunter breathed in sharply. After reminding himself that it was an important _necessity_ he was about to pay for, he fished for his coin purse, reaching for, and counting the coins carefully before handing them over.

The woman inspected and counted the zeni just as carefully as he had. Satisfied, she pocketed the money, the faintest of smiles tugging on her lips. "I can have the mattress cover ready by later, if you're lucky maybe even the sheets."

"Then I'll be by later." Wache told the tailor, who paid him no mind, instead going back to her work. His purchase done, the hunter put his wallet away. _Well the bed is taken care of... Except…_

"Do you happen to know where I can find some hay bales?" He asked, hoping his luck had not run out for the day.

"Other than the stables near the Guild depots? No," she had said from somewhere behind the hanging textiles. The hunter shrugged, figuring that not everything was going to go his way today.

"Thank you anyways!" He called back, again joining with the trickle of people going deeper into town, still regretting his breakfast…

* * *

Wache plodded down the street, carrying a small —thankfully lightweight— ice box. Even if his cargo wasn't heavy, the lack of sleep and the day's errands where catching up to him. Dull aches plagued his legs, a sharp pain stuck to his back, and his heavy eyelids demanded he keep blinking. Straightening his posture yet again, the hunter brought his gaze back onto the many signs and flyers.

The smithy area, on the street parallel to the main market, was much less frantic than it's more trade-oriented neighbor. Small buildings, every one of which had one or more pillars of smoke rising from them, where the housing and workplace of various types of smith. Everything from metal smiths that made everyday tools, to specialized gold, pewter, and tinsmiths could be found here.

While the distant bustle could still be heard, the difference in ambiance here was refreshing. There weren't any shouts for attention or the big amount of people, instead there were a few silent stragglers, the pounds of artists hammering away at their work, the rare hiss of a blade being quenched, and the faint popping and crackling of fire. Wache supposed this had to do with the sparse amount of residents and even fewer hunters. While there was never a lack of activity, most of the people that are in Dert at any given time aren't locals.

The hunter was paying close attention to the signs on many of the smithies, a specific symbol being the only thing he had to go by, but had no luck so far finding the bladesmith. _Ugh, what a pain. You'd think finding an expert blacksmith among common metallurgists would be easy._

He feared his arms were beginning to give out before he saw the unique token, a sword with a crimson bow wrapped around its hilt, on a sign placed conspicuously over a commercial stand.

Heaving a sigh between relief and incredulity, Wache made his way over, finding the energy to walk the remaining distance. The short man had expected something subtler, he had even slowed his pace to be sure he didn't miss it, but in hindsight this seemed exactly like something the old wyverian would do. _It's like he is not even trying._

Hanging on racks behind the stall where various types hunting equipment, all of it basic blademaster weapons, simplistic and made of metal.

A felyne was dozing off on his seat behind the stand. The hunter had to chuckle at the lynian's usual tomfoolery. _Seems he is still as attentive as ever._ Shifting the weight of the ice box fully onto one arm, the hunter circled the structure, knocking loudly on the stand's wooden counter as he passed by.

"Wake up Fervid!" He shouted at the napping cat, who immediately jolted upwards, looking around frantically.

"I wasn't sleeping meowster! I swear it, Nya!" The cat claimed fearfully, still frantically looking around. At this point Wache made no attempt to hide his enjoyment of the scene, his titters turning into loud laughter.

"It is nice seeing you too," he said before letting himself in through the door, which had been left ajar, and into the building behind them, leaving a confused and still drowsy Fervid behind him.

The place was busy, much like the stall outside. The inside of the building was riddled with weapons, some placed neatly on the wall, and others strewn about. To his left was a forge, as expected of a smith, on a rack near it many other tools of the trade like peens and fullers. A strangled cough caught Wache's attention, poking into the adjacent room he saw a wyvernian, apparently choking on his food.

"Damn... you!" Croaked the wyverian, pointing a spoon accusingly at the hunter "You chased me all the way here! You cheap midget! You buffoon! Are the other blacksmiths so greedy, that you'd find it cheaper to travel half the continent for a bloody discount!?" He ranted, amusing the hunter further.

"Actually..." Wache started, bending over to place the obtrusive box on the floor "I just moved here to Dert," he stated, a gleeful grin spreading across his face.

The wyverian gaped, staring incredulously at the sword-wielder. After dropping the spoon into his bowl, sighing exasperatedly, and trying to figure out where exactly he'd gone wrong, then looked Wache in the eye again.

"What do you need _this_ time?"

"It's nice to see you again too, Deltif." The hunter held out the bag with the sword and the materials in front of him, prompting the wyverian to rub his eyes tiredly and mutter something under his breath. Standing up at full height, he walked over to the hunter, snatching the bag from the much shorter man and walking behind him to retrieve some tools.

"I expect the usual discount," he reminded, earning him a glare from the taller wyverian.

He no longer found the sight intimidating, though the wyverian's sharp grey eyes lent themselves nicely to scaring away customers. His buzzed black hair was also an unusual sight, it was a big deviant from his fellow wyverian's typical look. The bladesmith was built lean, although you wouldn't know with the baggy work-clothes he always wore. He also stood a few feet taller than Wache, reaching well over seven feet in height, about average for a regular wyverian.

Wyverians, formerly known as the Dragon Tribe, are a species that is heavily speculated to be descended from wyverns. Wyverians resemble humans the most, even being nearly identical in the biological sense. What set them apart from humans are mostly superficial qualities, greater height, slightly harder skin, pointed ears, talon-like feet, and maybe most importantly, a much greater lifespan. Deltif was even relatively young, only now falling into his late seventies. Some wyverians are even known to be unique among their own, growing to be of incredible size or having slightly differing bone structures.

"You can earn a lot from selling these pelts, there aren't any Barioth around these parts. Worth more than any discount I can give ya." The bladesmith informed him, stretching and eyeing the hide carefully.

"I already sold most of them. I currently have plenty of parts _and_ money." The smith tsked in response, mumbling something along the lines of 'then why not pay full price', and took a spot on his work table.

 _Still as resentful as ever I see_.

"Aren't you going to finish your lunch?"

"Your smug face made me lose my appetite," he all but growled, "Is there any other reason you came specifically here, to Dert? Or am I just too good to pass up?"

"Araiguma city is too much for me, almost everything is cheaper here, and it's harder to draw attention to myself." Wache answered and took a seat next to the smith, giving his feet some much needed rest. The wyverian didn't seem all too pleased at his response, but did not pursue the matter further.

"What about you? Why did _you_ settle down here?" Wache pried.

"The ores. I can place a quest on the guild hall for cheap, and get all manner of strong metals to forge with. As you probably already know, I got a contract with the Guild. I make weapons of a certain quality, take them to the depots, and get paid a heavy sum. My profit margin has never been higher!" He exclaimed, a low chuckle escaping him, "Of course now you're here, I should've known it wouldn't last," he then lamented, sighing at himself.

"By the way... How did you know I was here?" Deltif questioned, this time breaking away from the blade in his hands to look at the hunter, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"You know as well as I do, the azure stranger has his sources."

"Next time you see him, tell him to fuck off," he snarled, placing the blade back down and crossing his arms "Sixteen thousand." He demanded, which the hunter complied almost immediately.

 _Nice to see we still know each other well._

"Thank you," The hunter said gratefully. The deal done, Wache got up wearily and grabbed the now empty bag, desperate to make his way back home. _Aw hell, I still have to pick up that mattress case…_

"Tell Fervid to close up shop." The short hunter nodded, picking up his ice box before sauntering off.

Closing the door behind him, the hunter nudged the dappled lynian, who was sleeping on the job again. "Deltif needs to close up for today." He told the felyne, who perked up and mewled happily at his new order. _Lazy cat…_

After readjusting the wooden fridge in his hands, Wache nodded goodbye at the lynian before turning around and going on his way.

* * *

 **Author's Note(8/29/2015): Thanks for Reading! Please Review!**

 **This is one of those chapters that I write mostly for myself, I enjoy writing random tasks and everyday interactions. However, I know most of you don't enjoy reading about someone running errands. Don't worry though, There will be some action very soon!**

 **Also, last update I accidentally posted an earlier version of the chapter, since it appears I didn't save when I had last edited it. A newer version was posted, without the glaring grammatical and syntax errors. I will do my best to ensure oversights such as this are not repeated.**

 **PS: Almost Forgot to ask. How did I do with the felyne's dialogue? Not enough puns?**

 **Thanks again! Till next time!**


	3. Into the Forest

**Chapter 2**

\- Into the Forest-

* * *

...Wache discarded the used whetstone and lifted the thin blade up to the light in order to better inspect the it's edge. _Looks sharp enough._ The hunter returned the sword to it's sleeve, careful to tighten the strings around the hilt. A necessary precaution, lest he lose another finger.

The poisoned blade could somehow incite decay in the flesh of whatever it cut, and in a matter of minutes, maybe less depending on what gets caught on it's edge. Wache wasn't sure how that made sense, since the Gigginox's poison didn't have that same effect, his best guess is that it had something to do with the forging process.

Having then strapped the shield to his gauntlet, he gives it an experimental tug, the straps staying firmly in place. _Can't have that coming loose again._

Reaching behind himself, he fumbled a bit before he felt the straps around his waist, attaching the metal strap at the sword's hilt so that the blade would stay attached to his back. Reaching for the satchel atop his item box, he similarly attached the small clips and buttons to the belts and slings that poked from under his armor.

His armor's design wasn't one for practicality, it was based on ceremonial clothing after all. Without any pockets, belts or buttons for pouches and weapons, he had needed to get a discreet harness fashioned, allowing him to carry an item bag and extra pouches. The harness wasn't obtrusive or uncomfortable, in fact he barely felt it due to the tight-fitting hide that covered him. The harness even helped to fill out the chest plate, which meant getting caught up on spikes or branches less often, he just had to make sure not to put on any considerable weight.

Having tested the various straps and belts across his torso, he nodded, deeming his equipment reliable enough. Putting on his armor was a job all on it's own. It became habitual, sure, but it didn't make it any easier.

 _I'm still never sleeping in the darn thing, that's for sure._ The hunter reminded himself, remembering some of his partners, who would pass out in their cumbersome equipment and would wake up the next morning, carrying on the day without a care.

The hunter stood up, the recently equipped items adding comforting weight. After taking a moment to stretch his arms, the sword user took a deep breath, steeling himself for the no doubt long day ahead of him.

His heavy breathing accentuated his dry mouth, prompting him to absentmindedly walk out of his room and over to the rickety dining table. He grabbed ahold of the metal pitcher, filling the sole cup on the table with water. After his drink, Wache saw himself on the pitcher's polished surface. Wiping his mouth, he lowers himself slightly, angling the pitcher so that the image looked less distorted.

The man looking back at him was much wider, and had a massive nose. Seal brown hair atop a massive forehead, with thin brows and deep bottle green eyes. His pointed chin, wide jaw, and thin pursed lips gave him a perpetual look of disapproval…

 _I'm looking better_. He noted. The bags under his eyes had disappeared, he no longer looked pale from yesterday's lunch, and the scab on his right temple had fallen off, leaving the flesh a light pink.

The scratch would fully heal in a few day's time, it would have healed by now, had he brought himself to ingest the recommended amount of potions. _Not like it's necessary, besides, a zeni saved is a zeni earned._

The hunter put down the pitcher before walking back into his room, picking up his spare key and blowing out the candle atop his item box.

With that he departed, locking the door with the spare to make sure it worked properly, then standing on his toes to place said spare key on top of the door's frame. Taking in the crisp morning air, the hunter sauntered off with renewed spirits.

The walk to the Guild hall was a short one, allowing the hunter to continue at a leisurely pace and take in his surroundings. Houses made up most of the buildings along the road, most of them empty and boring, much like his own, admittedly. But some seemed much more lively and welcoming, hopefully he could someday make his home look that lively—that is, when he had hunted enough to regain what he paid for it…

Now that he thought about it, it had been almost a full month since his last hunt, a rampaging Glacial Agnaktor over at Narshe. He had even put the leviathan's parts to use towards his Barioth sword.

S _hould be ready any day now_. He remembered, maybe he'd get lucky and there would be a Wroggi to test it on…

The hunter let out a groan upon seeing the crowd that had gathered on the boardwalk, transforming the short distance to the other side of the path into an odyssey. Many people were generous enough to move slightly when asked to do so, but that wasn't helping much when the people had no space to move themselves. It seemed a performance was about to start, Wache for a moment thought he might have no choice but to see it through, but he was thankfully able to follow closely behind some workers who were delivering some crates to the hall.

The interior of Dert's Guild hall was just as one would expect. Clean stone walls, plenty of space, and a high ceiling with skylights that gave the hall a nice open feel. All manner of Guild propaganda and warm lanterns kept the walls from looking bare, tables were placed unobtrusively for groups of hunters to sit, and a barrel was placed in the middle of it all, obviously for arm wrestling. To his immediate left was a counter with seating, a thick curtain hanging over it. There was probably a kitchen or assortment of liquors behind it, however, considering the curtain, the canteen didn't seem to be open for business. On the wall opposite to the canteen was the quest counter, beside it the quest board, mostly devoid of quest slips. On the other end of the building was the departure gate, which likely lead out to the piers, where one would catch a boat to one of the many base camps dotted around the hunting grounds.

He was, rather surprisingly, not the only hunter there. One such hunter was sitting on one of the tables nearest him, tinkering with a heavy bowgun. There were other two at the counter, speaking with the hall's guildie.

Thinking he could make his way over to the counter without drawing any attention to himself if as long as he was quiet and unassuming, he hesitantly looked through the people present before taking a step. Not a heartbeat after he took that first step, a scraping sound met his ears. He whipped his head to the side, seeing the barrel of a bowgun aimed straight at him.

Wache froze where he stood, eyes widening in fear, throat beginning to constrict painfully and chest tightening. He stared at the gun, waiting in despair for his sentence.

 _ **You insolent cur…**_

He waited what felt like an eternity, stood there, out of air, out of luck, and out of hope.

Then it moved.

The bowgun shifted to the side with a groan, then it was turned and dropped with a loud thud. The gun's owner examined his weapon, wiping at it with a cloth and then picking at the artifact with a comically large screwdriver.

 _It... it was nothing... I'm fine…_

The hunter forced himself to exhale, the air whistling through clenched teeth in a low hiss. He grabbed at his chest plate, desperate to release the hold on his chest, and feel his heartbeat once more. He gulped, the action feeling like it tore him open.

Wache scanned the hall, everything was just as he'd seen it a moment ago, and it didn't look like anybody had noticed. He straightened up and forced down his shoulders —a near-fruitless effort in trying to relax. _Just carry on Wache. Nothing happened here, just move along..._ He took that second step, then quickly followed with a third, and fourth…

The pair of hunters were still busying the guildie, so he had a few more moments to regain his composure. When he stopped behind them, and one watched him over his shoulder. Wache tried his best to ignore the hunter's scrutiny, but was unable to calm down, instead growing more uneasy by the second. The sword-wielder prayed that he wasn't asked about his armor, it was a story he didn't feel like telling again at the moment.

The young hunter eventually turned his attention back to the attendant's explication, allowing Wache the space to finally relax.

 _Good job, Wache! You nearly had another breakdown over nothing, and almost made another scene…_

The two hunters took a while longer to settle on a quest, conveniently allowing the distraught hunter just enough time for him to calm down completely. They both left rather quickly, the attendant waving goodbye as they ran through the departure gate. The hunter was about to step forward before he took a good look at the person in front of him.

Wache tried his best to mask his surprise at seeing a _male_ guildie, probably the rarest of sights.

"It's nice to see a new face once in awhile!" He greeted, with a bright, cheery smile. "How can I help you?... Sir." The sword wielder just nodded at the... quest attendant, thinking back on how obvious it would have been if he'd payed some attention.

The smiling youth was taller than himself. He had a thin face, yet relatively wide cheeks that gave way to a welcoming smile. Below thin eyebrows sat soft, wide-set eyes, followed by a small rounded nose. His blond hair was short, barely noticeable under the hat he wore, along with a typical indigo-colored Guild uniform.

Wache handed over his guild card wordlessly, looking over the counter at the detailed map that covered the majority of the wall. The map was of the surrounding hunting grounds, with the shaded area at the center of it all likely being Dert. It had everything on it, any type of topographical features, campsites, outposts, some overlapping trade routes, and even migratory paths for Ludroth and Qurupecos.

"Wow, 52! You're probably the highest ranked hunter to come here in months." The young man remarked, seeming to grow more content. The hunter didn't reply, and turned his gaze back on the expansive map.

There were few hunting areas in the surrounding mountains, and there were no trails through the forest, hunting skiffs appear to be the only way to get there. The forests nearby where famous for the Ludroth migration, hundreds of Ludroth and their harem traveling in-land to make nests, only possible when the winter humidity turned the lush forests into murky swamps.

"The Well-Done Hunter?" Asked the attendant dubiously, "Are they running out of titles where you're from?" THe guildie said jokingly. Wache wasn't too keen on the title himself, not only was it a ridiculous name, it also lent itself easily to quips and jeers.

"All done, Mister... Wake," He said, giving the hunter his card back.

"It's Wache"

"Varquet?"

"Wa-che"

"Nevermind that... Are you interested in accepting a quest?" The attendant offered, motioning to the smaller quest board beside him. Wache got closer to inspect the colorful slips of paper that were tacked onto the board.

 _All of this sounds tedious_. The only quest that involved hunting had the familiar icon of a Jaggia stamped on it, the others were either gathering quests or the tedious egg-carrying variety. _I don't think I could take back-pain like that again, especially not doing the task alone…_

"Say..." The young attendant started, "You interested in hunting a flying wyvern?" He asked vaguely, wringing his hands nervously. "You're qualified..." The sword-wielder raised a brow at the man's strange change in demeanor... Though, it _was_ piquing his curiosity.

"Flying wyvern?"

"Yes. It's urgent. No one else had a high enough ranking, so my friend had to accept it. It's her first time attempting a high ranked quest. She only hit Rank Thirty-first a short while ago and... well, last time she was up against a Rath, she got roughed up pretty bad." He explained, muttering the last part mostly to himself. "I'm worried for her."

 _It's just a Rath, but it'll probably pay more than anything else on offer. Though I only brought ten potions with me, no flash bombs either…_

"Can I see it?" The attendant leaned over the counter, stretching his arm to point at the pending quest board next to the counter. Wache walked over, the only quest on it was a red slip, which the hunter removed to examine. He let out a groan upon seeing the familiar rosy-colored image.

 _A dammed Pink Rathian, and I only get around a thousand…_

The hunter scratched the back of his head, debating on whether to help, suffer badly and get little compensation, or go collect eggs, suffer mildly and get a considerable compensation. The knowledge of current Melynx activity would have made the hunter's decision much easier... _Maybe I can get the girl to give me her share?_

Wache sighed, handing the red slips of paper over to the relieved attendant, who stamped it and handed it back to the hunter.

"Thanks, Mr. Well-done, she'll certainly appreciate your help." The sword-wielder grimaced at the name, a reaction which did not go unnoticed by the attendant. "I'll just call you Ed then."

"No thanks"

"Then what about-"

"Look, don't call me anything, okay? Hunter, or sir, nothing else." He rectified, to which the attendant nodded.

"Of course, sir."

"Where is this huntress you were talking about?"

"She went back to get some things, should be here any moment."

 _Great. No time to go get some more potions or bombs, and I don't see a sales stand in here…_

"Do you sell any antidotes here?"

"Yes, they're sixty each." The youth answered automatically.

"Give me four." The attendant wasted no time in wandering off to look for the antidotes somewhere out of sight. He returned soon-after, holding four bottles, each filled with the off-putting blue concoction. Wache paid for, and took, the bottles, fitting them snugly into his bag. The short hunter saw no other option but to wait, and so he sat at one of the tables, waiting for the huntress who he was currently helping.

Not a second after he'd sat down, the gunner that had caused him to nearly lose it approached the quest counter. _He either dislikes waiting in line, or he noticed…_

After choosing to ignore the matter completely, the sword-wielder occupied himself by going over the quest details. It seemed like your run-of-the-mill quest when it came to minimum requirements, objective, and reward, but the eye-catching 'URGENT' stamp and client's message were indicative of the situation at hand.

 _\- Melynx Chief_

 _"Just our luck! A pink Rathian_

 _just up and decided to make_

 _our home it's nest! Take care_

 _of it hunter, and you will be_

 _rewarded handsomely, Nya!"_

Wache wasn't sure of a felyne's pay, but his and the client's definition of 'handsome reward' differed greatly…

The hunter didn't have to wait long, as the sound of hasty footsteps and clanking armor soon met his ears. However, the huntress that came rushing into the hall was not what he expected. Tall, well-built and carrying a huge metal... thing on her back, this girl seemed like she could easily give him a run for his money.

 _I guess it's better than having to babysit a rookie, at least._ The hunter admitted, thinking back on how insufferable he must have been. After dwelling on his thoughts a moment longer, he begrudgingly got up just as he heard a shout of 'Mr. Hunter!'. The amicable attendant chatted animatedly with the huntress, and upon seeing the short hunter approaching instantly turned her forcibly to face him.

"This here is the nice hunter that offered his help!" He exclaimed excitedly, though his huntress friend seemed much less thrilled.

"Wache" The hunter offered a hand to shake, which the huntress eyed apprehensively before silently extending her own. Despite her height, posture, and muscles, the girl had an air of fragility to her. Her skin was pale —like it better suited a sickly child— her big eyes looked tired, and her long black hair looked clean yet unkempt.

"I'm June... It's nice to meet you, a-and, um, thanks for the help."

"It's nothing, miss." He tried his best to assure, even when his mind told him he was wasting his day. _Too late for that now... mate._

"Hey, you two should get moving, you only have until today to kill this thing." The attendant urged, "The boat's waiting and- You both ate, right?" He suddenly questioned, leaning forward and looking on at the hunters with raised eyebrows.

"You already asked me earlier." June quickly reminded him, to which he responded by training his gaze on Wache instead.

"I ate already." He lied, uncomfortable eating so soon after his disastrous lunch the day before. The attendant seemed to believe him, no longer gazing into the hunter's soul, and leaned away from the counter.

"That's a shame. I have some vouchers here no one has used yet. Be sure to pick one up next time!"

"Will do." The huntress spoke, nodding at the attendant before leaving for the departure gate. The short hunter offered a nod at the young guild worker, who was currently spouting various farewells, as he trailed behind the huntress.

The exit led to an isolated section of the boardwalk, where there were a set of piers that stood parallel to each other. Docked along the sides where various hunting skiffs, long, light boats built for speed and efficiency. Not directly used in any hunting, but for transporting hunters, cargo, and giant carcasses.

Only two men were there, along with their respective skiffs. One of them waved the hunters over, and greeted them with a 'Good morning'. He appeared like the usual tall, burly, and under-dressed sailors he was all too familiar with. June handed the red slip over to the sailor, who nodded and motioned for them to board...

* * *

Wache lazily swatted at another bug, watching with mild amusement as it buzzed around in the air uselessly before falling on the water's surface, it's final moments unheard below the river's unstoppable current.

Indeed, he was bored.

The trip has until now been unbearably quiet, since neither of the other two people aboard made for good conversation. Any attempt to initiate a conversation with the huntress was met with a short response and little room nor reason to continue. He'd asked their navigator about the area, but he explained how he knew little more than how to get there by water. The sailor had gone on for a while about how most of the hunting grounds east of Dert connected via the same river they were now traveling traveling on, mentioned how difficult it was to traverse during and after heavy rain, and even pointed out specific places where the river branched out and led to a different areas of the hunting grounds. The hunter appreciated the sailor's attempt at providing interesting facts despite being constantly moving around and doing one thing or the other, but he understood little of sailing or fishing, and so his interest waned.

The hunter yawned deeply and leaned back to hang lazily over the edge, the subtle sound of flowing water now mere inches from his ears. He momentarily entertained the idea of a Ludroth suddenly coming up to bite his head off, but the sailor's earlier mention of the water being too shallow for monsters eased his concern.

The hunter gazed up at the sky, it's infinite vastness looked all the more evident when it was as barren as it was now. No clouds to comprehend and describe, even the sun was currently out of sight thanks to the trees. The little canopies that hung over them framed the empty picture, an invisible mass of nothing, that somehow still managed to look beautiful…

 _I got deep there, didn't I?_ The hunter thought, then vowed to discard all the pointless books his friend had gifted him, they were filled with nothing but flowery nonsense anyway.

"Look out, hunter." He heard the sailor warn him. Turning his head he saw a branch, on course towards his face, and sat back up as the dried wood passed by harmlessly.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

The hunter sat straight now, not wanting to deal with any more obstacles. He knew he wasn't in any real danger, but the small event reminded him of two simple yet important pointers for hunting.

The first one was to pay attention, both at the monster and your surroundings. Daydreaming like that could spell failure, or worse. The other one was being mindful and concerned for your partners. A simple warning like the one his transporter had given could save someone, if necessary attracting the beast's attention, pushing a person out of the way, or blocking an incoming projectile to protect someone where a clear priority.

His... _mentor,_ had taught him these and many other valuable skills, even if he had chosen rather unorthodox ways, at least they were hard to forget. The hunter subconsciously smiled, recalling some of the many phrases or quips he still remembered.

 _Better a failure than a memory! You'll never out-drink a monster. The harder the shell, the mushier the entrails. I'd choose a plan over-_

 _...We still need a plan, don't we? Jason would be disappointed._

Wache glanced at the huntress, who was currently staring straight ahead. Since they had departed from Dert she had only grown more and more restless, the hunter found the sight of such a large person hug her knees close and bite her lips in worry so odd. _I guess the guild- the quest attendant was right in worrying about her._

The sword-wielder debated leaving her be, as he personally did not like being approached when in such a state, but convinced himself making a plan would actually benefit her state of mind.

"Hey, kid- oh, um... Miss June, right?" The alloy-clad huntress turned toward him, observing him for a while before nodding slowly. "We need to think up a plan." The huntress was quick to shift her attention, sitting upright and putting down her feet, looking more like the composed hunter he had seen at the hall.

"That axe of yours do anything special?" He began, pointing at the huge felyne themed weapon, which the huntress carried with ease.

"It can morph into its more powerful sword form." She stated matter-of-factly. Wache was about to question further before he analyzed that statement.

"No, I mean. Any elemental or utility properties?" The huntress blinked, staring blankly at the hunter for a few seconds before a blush spread across her face.

"I'm sorry. I-I thought..."She stammered out in her embarrassment, her blush contrasting so sharply with her skin that it likened to a nasty sunburn. "...It can paralyze." She mumbled, only barely audibly.

"Don't worry about it. Tell me, how potent is the paralyzing agent? Around how many times does the effect usually kick in during a hunt?"

"Only once or twice." Wache hummed in thought. If they took advantage of the paralysis to deliver a lethal blow they could end it easily, but he didn't know a Rathian's biology, and his sword certainly couldn't pierce through that thing's skull.

"Would you feel safe being near the Rathian's head?" The huntress lapsed back into concern, taking a moment to think it through before shaking her head. "Okay."

 _Cleaving it's head wide open is out of the question. Death by a thousand cuts it is then._

"How long is your switch-axe?"

"Oh gee, um... Five and a half... feet?" She offered, holding her hand around her shoulders.

"That'll do... I'll try my best to scratch its face and cripple its leg. You aim for the tail, the faster we get that thing off, the better. And try to tear its wings, if it can't fly it can't flee." The hunter explained. He hoped that keeping her to the beast's sides and back will minimize the danger she's in, at least until she gets more comfortable attacking the thing. "But we can't keep that up the whole time, after a while she'll start seeing a pattern in our attacks, and retaliate. Whenever I yell 'Switch', we're going to mix it up a little. I'll take on the tail and you try to get some hits on it's chest, that way we'll keep the Rathian on it's toes, we cannot become predictable."

June simply nodded at every order, seemingly focused on the shorter hunter's words. The hunter waited for any kind of question or opinion from her, and at one point it seemed like she would speak, but promptly closed her mouth. With no luck, the hunter continued the discussion himself.

"We have to wear it down before it tires us, normally a trap or bomb helps with that, but I didn't bring much with me. I would have liked to have some flash bombs at least." The hunter confessed. _Maybe the guild supplied some?_

"Did you happen to bring anything that might helps us?" Wache said. The huntress reached for her bag, checking her items.

"Just some dung and sonic bombs."

 _No good then…_

"Here we are." The sailor announced, just as he lassoed a small post that jutted out from the water.

Wache didn't see anything of notice, that was until the rope tightened, making the boat lurch slightly to the right with the current. The action placed them right next to a small break in the foliage, a path that most likely lead to the camp. June got up and took her things, the sailor finished tying the knot for a second rope and grabbed a small chest.

"Welcome to the middle-eastern Bimofingu Forest." The man exclaimed as he stepped off the boat, the hunters following close behind. The small path seemed to turn smaller as they traversed, at one point June and the sailor had to duck in order to avoid the branches above, Wache had no need to.

"Um, Mr. Bake?" Wache heard the huntress' voice call from behind. He almost corrected her, but decided he had done that enough for the day.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?" The huntress asked. The hunter didn't look back to check, but he was sure he heard hesitation in her tone.

"...Go ahead."

"Um... Why aren't you wearing male armor?"

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**

 **What do ya'll think so far? Do you like it? Hate it? Seriously, I'm starving for feedback here.**

 **So... a male Gildie. Any of you expected that? I had a lot of fun writing him, and I know I'll enjoy writing him in future chapters. I glossed over a lot of how the guild works, but not to worry, more on that will come soon. What of our new huntress, what did you think of her? Seems like nobody can get Wache's name right, I wouldn't blame them, as it took me over a year to find out how it was pronounced.**

 **And what of Wache's equipment? Can any of you guess what set he's wearing? I'm aware some of you already know.**

 **Next chapter is the hunt. When our characters take on (And hopefully defeat!) a Pink Rathian!**

 **Thanks again for reading! Please review!**


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